


Don't Let The Beat Drop

by KingsAndThieves (TehLotteh)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien is musiciansexual, F/M, Lindsey Stirling AU, Music AU, Nino has a thing for leather pants, background Alya/Nino, electric violin AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6397621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehLotteh/pseuds/KingsAndThieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien is a classical violinist by profession, but by night he's drinking himself numb while watching the most beautiful electric violinist he's ever seen in his life in a club known as DJ Wifi. Ladybug is a dancer, a performer, a musician who controls the beat and is not controlled by it. He longs to know what it's like to combine his traditional upbringing with the intoxicating dubstep she manipulates so well, and when Nino, the club's owner, promises him an opportunity to play by her side he is helpless to resist the lure of the black mask and the dimly lit stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let The Beat Drop

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, disclaimer time: I'm a clarinetist, saxophonist, pianist, but not by any stretch of the imagination a string player. I don't understand how these things work, really, and whatever I've picked up has been from my years in an orchestra (and those few times my friend and I swapped instruments for the banter).
> 
> In other words, if I've made some horrifying sin against a violin please let me know and I'll do my best to rectify it, and forgive this poor, ignorant woodwinder.
> 
> Secondly, if you haven't seen any of Lindsey Stirling's performances what I'm trying to explain here might not make much sense. The particular tune that inspired this piece is Roundtable Rival (and is the tune that I was listening to when I wrote the performance in the end) if you fancy having a look at that first. I can also recommend Shadows as it was one of my background tunes while writing as well.
> 
> This is entirely self-indulgent, but I hope any of you who have stumbled upon here enjoy it as well :) have fun!

Adrien lowered his arm and stood meekly as he glanced to his grey-haired tutor, tucking his bow between his violin and his body as he awaited yet more criticism from the elderly instructor. It wasn't that he was bad – on the contrary, you didn't get to be an international soloist on family breeding alone – but he just wasn't what his father wanted from him. Although he performed well and flawlessly, he only ever seemed to output just above ninety percent effort in place of the required hundred.

No amount of private lessons and tutelage was going to fix that; he knew it, he was sure they knew it too, but nobody was willing to give in and admit that his heart just wasn't in the music that an Agreste was expected to play.

Of course, he loved his Mozarts and his Paganinis and his Saint-Saens, he played them well, hell, he could play them in his sleep if he really wanted to and he always performed them to the best of his abilities, but he just couldn't find it in him to devote his heart and soul to give them that final finishing edge.

His green gaze flitted over his tutor as the man's face twitched behind his bushy facial hair, the only sign that he was running through his thoughts at all, before the elderly man let out a heavy sigh, waving an arm in a gesture to say that their lesson may as well be over for the day.

“You hold your elbow too low,” he spoke finally, grey-blue gaze fixed on Adrien with an exhausted patience, and they were both well aware that the elder was merely floundering for something to say so that they could both pass feedback to Adrien's father. The moment that the tutor appeared to have no use was the moment that he would be let off, and neither of them particularly wanted that. He'd had far nastier tutors who had torn into him for the sole purpose of making sure they stayed employed, and he really, really hadn't appreciated that at all.

Needless to say, they hadn't remained his tutors for long.

That wasn't to say he was so big-headed as to believe that he had no room to improve. He did, he always did and he never tried to deny it, it was just that the areas he was most motivated to work on were areas that his father absolutely under no circumstances could _ever_ find out about.

He didn't know how his father would legally manage to shut down Nino's club, but if he ever found out that his son's DJing friend was the reason the young musician had been late home most nights (or on some occasions, not home at all), Adrien had no doubt that he would bend heaven and/or hell in order to make sure it never happened again, and he couldn't let that happen to his friend. Not on his watch, any way.

It hadn't been Nino who had first tempted him into the club, after all – they hadn't even known each other then.

He did his best to ignore his tutor's sympathetic glance as he packed his instrument away, loosening the hairs on his bow before slotting it into its holder and carefully draping the velvet dust guard over the violin itself. He tapped the humidity gauge once, just to make sure that it wasn't jammed, and then closed the lid, zipping it up and popping the press stud underneath the handle to ensure it didn't stand a chance at falling apart.

Slinging the case onto his shoulder he dug into his satchel, fetching out his wallet and leafing through the notes before handing his hefty fare over for the day's lesson. His elderly tutor thanked him and wished him well, a pleasantry he returned as he slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind him.

He always hated walking through the spacious and empty halls of the conservatory when his mind was firmly locked onto that club. It felt like the thousands of eyes watching him from the numerous posters of his father that draped over the pale yellow walls were condemning him for his impure thoughts – thoughts that strayed to dub-step and prog-rock and things a classical prodigy most certainly should not be filling his ears with.

That was the problem though, wasn't it? Until recently, it hadn't been a problem, because he'd never considered that his two worlds could meet. His father had always kept him busy to the point of exhaustion, playing classical music on the stereo in the house, in the car, always giving him new pieces and giving him work experience in orchestras both as a member of the string section and as a soloist. He'd heard his first dub-step music sat in the waiting room of the opticians, and the beat had gotten right into his heart and seized him and refused to let go.

Returning home he'd locked himself in his room and browsed YouTube, not sure what to call this music but still finding himself broadening his horizons somewhat, discovering things he liked and things he didn't like but it was all just a giant learning curve for him in the end. So he had some new workout music, so he had something to listen to when he was frustrated and needed a break from practising.

So what?

The concept of merging the two worlds had never crossed his mind, not even once.

Not until that one evening at Nino's club.

He'd stumbled upon DJ Wifi by complete chance, in a mood with his father and not feeling in the mood to see him after a less than stellar rehearsal the week before a concert. He was sure that were he anyone else, his family would be supportive and tell him to take a break, that it would all slot into place after a good sleep and a night off.

Being the son of a world famous conductor was the worst aspect of all, in his mind, because not only was his father a classical musician, but he was very much used to everyone taking his word as gospel. Any failure on his son's part was a slight against him that he wouldn't stand for.

In other words, Adrien had really, _really_ not wanted to go home that night.

He'd been ambling through the streets and dragging his feet, case on his back and browsing the windows while searching for some spark of inspiration when the sound of a heavy beat and some amazing keyboard work caught his attention, and soon enough he was finding his feet following it of their own accord to a shady looking alleyway lit up by a neon sign that announced the name of the small club. Deciding that he had little to lose he slipped in through the door, being welcomed into a very cosy space. A narrow walkway down a ramp opened up into a wide stage area, a bar taking up the left hand side while large, leather sofas in various dark colours encircled a raised platform where someone was sat at a keyboard and hooked up to various pieces of sound equipment that Adrien himself could make neither heads nor tails of.

He'd sort of stood in awe as he took it all in, seeing people milling about, lounging on the sofas with drinks in hand, giving the musician more attention than if he were just background noise, but overall, despite the driving bass line, the atmosphere was the most relaxed he'd seen in a long time.

“Well, hello, stranger,” a voice had startled him in his ear, an arm slung comfortably around his shoulder in a very pally manner. Adrien had jumped about three foot in the air at that, earning himself a hearty laugh from the man beside him.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, dude – welcome to DJ Wifi! Come, first drink's on the house.”

It had all gone well from there, really. The man, who introduced himself as the club's owner, Nino, had sat him down in a comfy armchair and brought him something with considerably more alcohol than Adrien had originally intended to have, but he took it and enjoyed it and his father be damned he'd never had such a good night in his life.

It had quickly grown into an addiction, returning at least two or three times a week just to sit and relax, listening to whatever musician was playing that night. He and Nino had grown close in no time, each finding the other surprisingly easy to talk to, and had been reclining on one of the sofas near the front that night that he had seen her.

 _Her_.

Nino ran a policy in his club that any performer who didn't want to disclose their real name or identity didn't have to, and he'd organise themed nights to give them an excuse to dress as elaborately as possible. All he had mentioned to Adrien was that his girlfriend, a part-time singer, had a friend who was coming to perform that evening, and Adrien's interest had been mildly polite at best until the moment she came on stage.

Ladybug, as she announced herself, was the type he'd never realised he'd had. All slender limbs and pale skin with eyes the brightest blue and hair so dark it caught the navy tones in the lights all around the club. She was wearing a cocktail dress covered in red and black sequins, skin-toned tights doing nothing to hide those impossibly long legs that stopped only under an almost-too short skirt. Black chunky heels added to her height which, in hindsight, wasn't all that tall, but when he was sat at floor level and she was on the stage raised in front of him, perception did many a strange thing.

Her hair was pulled into messy pigtails and back-combed to death, a red silk mask strapped over the upper half of her face, but what caught his attention most was the scarlet instrument in her hands – red, vinyl, four strings with black tuning pegs and a matching bow.

She plugged the cable in to connect it to the amp, waited until the backing beat kicked in, and then brought her instrument up and played that violin like he'd never seen one played before.

His father would have called it abuse, a disgrace to the classical world. His tutor probably would have had a heart attack. His sponsor would have spat out his coffee.

He merely called it a gift sent from heaven.

All of a sudden his two musical worlds collided with an astronomical force and he couldn't help but watch, enraptured, as the beat carried her whole body and she swayed and twisted, the movement going through her arm and tugging her hips, making little hops and dips around the stage, breathing and living the very music she was playing.

He was blissfully unaware of Nino's sly grin as he watched his expression, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, but her music was a toxin that he couldn't get enough of. Even when she finished her set and left the stage it was burned in his memory, that cheeky smile and those dancing eyes haunting him even as he blindly walked home, stripped off and lay in bed, staring at his ceiling but seeing nothing but her.

That was the music he wanted to play. The sort that forced people to move, took them by the heart and spun them into a deadly whirlwind of syncopation and bass at such a driving force that it left them breathless.

The next morning he was there, grabbing the electric violin he used for practising in hotel rooms abroad, headphones plugged in, and tried to replicate what he had heard and felt as he watched her. It felt unusual to his muscle memory but it soon flowed naturally, inspiring him to add some of his virtuoso flair in seemingly impossible turns and running scales, fingers moving in a blur against the strings while his bowing wrist trembled in a delicate flutter before driving down in a heavy beat, relishing in the knowledge that it was so _wrong_ yet felt so _right_.

He was aware that this was likely just a rebellious phase, but as long as it cheered him up as it did, he had little to no intention of stopping.

It was a week later when he received a text from Nino that simply read “Be here tonight bro”, and he didn't risk missing it. Sure enough she was performing once more, although he'd not had chance to leave his violin behind before coming to the club. She'd caught sight of it mid-song, tucked away in its case as it was and sat on the seat next to him, and then her eyes had met his for a tantalisingly long moment. She smiled, he stopped breathing, and then it was over.

“So what is she?” he'd asked Nino after about the eighth such occasion, unable to hold off his curiosity any more. “Professionally trained or an amateur?”

“Alya assures me she's self-trained,” Nino responded as he stirred his drink, jolting at the stifled moan that came out of Adrien's mouth, the blond flushing a deep red in embarrassment afterwards.

“Dude, you did not just do that.. Oh my god, you did, what? Are you that such of a music nerd that the thought of someone being self-trained turns you on?”

Adrien lowered his gaze shyly and nodded miserably into his drink, trying to ignore Nino's boisterous laugh.

“I could get you a chance to perform, if you wanted. She's here most nights, obviously not in costume. You might be able to catch her interest if she hears you play.”

The offer was extremely tempting, but as Adrien had stroked a hand idly over the top of the case (“that's creepy, bro”) he'd realised that it just wasn't a possibility for him.

It was all right him sitting in a bar and listening to popular club music, just about, but if he started playing? Someone was bound to recognise him. Even if they weren't into classical music and never attended a concert in their life, his face was plastered all over Paris with his upcoming solo recital, and him being the face of his father's prestigious conservatory, and the recent sponsorship deal with a spare string provider..

All in all, the second anyone saw him playing in some side-alley club his reputation was done for. Or at least, not his reputation, but if his father got wind of it his life may as well be.

Nino watched his multitude of expressions with a slight smile on his face, though said nothing for the time being. If he was right about how much his friend was digging the spunky young musician up on stage (and his reaction that evening was some pretty solid evidence), then he knew he would give in sooner or later.

And if the gossip Alya had given him on who the mysterious Bug's idol was, this performance would be mutually beneficial.

And so it was that about a year later, Adrien had, against his better judgement, given in to Nino's (multiple) suggestions and agreed to perform on stage. Leaving his tutor and the stifling atmosphere of the conservatory behind him, a quick glance to his phone confirmed that he had about an hour to get to the club and get ready before he was expected to play.

When he'd dropped his electric violin off to the backstage of the club earlier that day, he'd found some clothes draped over the back of the chair, a simple black, leather mask resting on the table with a note from Nino. He was told not to worry about having anything prepared to play (which, naturally, Adrien found quite unnerving), but as the club master had not been around at the time and had very conveniently turned his phone off, Adrien was left to sizzle in concern the rest of the day.

Finally free from all other duties he slipped in to the club and waved a hand to Alya, leaning at the bar as she chatted with a pretty, dark haired girl with blue eyes who was perched on the edge of a stool and sipping at something that was an alarming shade of green. Adrien flashed the two of them a warm smile, Alya waving for him to head on through to the back while the other girl seemed to suddenly burn an interesting red, from her cheeks up to the tips of her ears as she barely managed to squeak out a greeting. He could have sworn he heard a dull thud, like someone punching someone else and a hissed “Alya” as he slipped into the changing rooms out back, but he wasn't sure.

Left alone with time to spare at last, he shook out the clothes that Nino had left for him and stifled a groan.

The black shirt was flattering, certainly, with a low v-cut neckline and a flowing shape that held an almost Hispanic inspiration to it, one that he wasn't against wearing, but it was the trousers that he opposed. Black leather and very tight, it was different to anything he normally wore. He was used to skinny jeans and slim black trousers, but leather?

This was a whole different kettle of fish, and Nino was going to have some damn explaining to do later. Who did he think he was, the next Zorro?

Still, left with few other options, Adrien eventually stripped off and forced himself into the clothes. How Nino got his size right on the first go he would never know, and as much as he hated to admit it the clothes were strangely flattering. Black and silver edged boots soon gave him an extra inch of height, and as he slipped the mask on he turned to the mirror, amazed at what a change such a simple addition could do to his appearance. He reached up and fluffed his hair, bringing the usually neat and swept back locks into a rough and ragged mess around his face, and let out a playful grin to himself.

Maybe this would be his last day with a worthwhile life if his identity got out, but gods would it be worth it.

 

Marinette knew her face had locked in a completely distorted smile as she waved mechanically at the blond who slipped out back to the dressing rooms but she couldn't find it in her to return back to the real world, at least not until she heard her best friend snort with stifled laughter.

Spell momentarily broken she turned round and backhanded Alya, hissing her name with eyes wide in fear.

“No, no, you told me there'd be a new musician playing with me tonight but you didn't say it would be him!”

“What's the problem?” Alya grinned with a sly smile, leaning her elbow on the top of the bar and picking at a peanut in the bowl between them. “I know you go to all his concerts. Consider this a.. Let's call it a VIP ticket, hm? Anyway, Mari, nobody else would recognise him from his face alone, surely. Just goes to show what a giant fangirl you are.”

“Alyaaaa,” she whined desperately, dropping her face in her arms with a loud groan. “How am I supposed to play knowing he's stood next to me? What if I mess up? What if he realises how terrible I am?”

Alya sighed, rubbing her hand against her best friend's back in a soothing manner. “You know, I wasn't going to tell you this in case you freaked out, but-”

“But what?!”

“- _But_ I think this is a special case. Seems your precious string boy is a very big fan of your playing. Nino says his fascination with you is practically sinful.”

Marinette glanced up, blue eyes searching her friend's darker ones for any sign of her lying to her, but when she saw nothing but blunt honesty she wailed slightly, kicking her stool back and flailing her arms.

“Now I'm really going to mess it up!”

Her friend laughed heartily, downing the rest of her drink in one go. “Only if you think like that, you will. Come on, girl, think about it – mask, that super cute butt of yours and your amazing playing. He's going to be hooked. And, if you make a mistake, just grind against him and I'm sure he'll forget allll about it~”

Marinette whined again, horrified that her friend could even suggest such a thing, but before she had chance to protest any more the co-owner was shoving her off towards the changing rooms, reminding her that the doors would be opening to the public very soon and she needed to get ready if she was to wow a certain someone on the stage that evening.

In her mind she was going to need a lot more than a costume change and some Dutch courage to get through this evening.

 

Adrien hummed quietly to himself as he tuned his instrument, pinning it against his shoulder with his chin as he twisted the tuning pegs, extremely grateful for his perfect pitch as he felt that satisfaction as he managed to get his G string back at the ideal tension (wouldn't that be embarrassing otherwise?). A few quick scales and he was ready for action, waiting off at the side of the stage where Nino had asked him to, his friend in question already on the stage and working the crowd up with his usual magic. There were more people here that night than he had originally anticipated, but a lot of people came for Ladybug these days, he'd noticed. On any other night the club would be about half full, but nights when Ladybug were performing were jam packed.

 _And he would get to play alongside her_.

He suppressed a shiver of delight down his spine, reaching up to make sure the plastic headband with cat ears on hadn't shifted. He couldn't believe Nino had had even more parts of his costume planned, but when he arrived to make sure his second performer was show-ready, he'd frowned and complained that it wasn't quite right. Stealing into Alya's costume wardrobe he had returned with a leather cat tail and a headband and attached them to him against his protests, placating him with a “who doesn't like cat-boys?” comment and a sly wink.

_This is some real Puss in Boots shit, Nino.._

He had to admit, he did look rather fetching, and nothing at all like his usual self which was an added bonus. The fact that his entire ensemble was in black only helped to bring out the striking emerald of his eyes, and he thanked his lucky stars that his electric violin was black and green as well. A rare paint job but something he had really wanted (and therefore made sure he got), its body wasn't unlike that of a normal violin, but it was mottled in a contrasting forest green that shimmered like a galaxy print against the deep black of its body.

A slight movement from the opposite end of the stage caught his eye and he saw shocking blue staring at him from behind one of the speakers, surrounded by the red mask and reddening cheeks that could only belong to Ladybug. He couldn't see what she was wearing from here, but she was most definitely watching him. Boosted with the confidence of wearing a mask of his own he grinned and flashed her a quick salute, confused as she ducked her head out of sight very, very quickly.

“Well done, Adrien,” he sighed to himself, turning to look back at Nino. Way to blow it. Now she was going to think he was some creep.

The DJ must have said something good because the crowd was suddenly cheering, and Adrien could hear the hiss of a smoke machine starting up near him to fill up the stage with an eerie fog at about knee height. Nino let out a whoop, holding the microphone back to his face with a large beam, looking out over his customers.

“Hold onto your seats, dudes and dudettes, because tonight is going to get steamy! Not only do we have everyone's favourite lovebug-” More screams, a couple of _Ladybug I love you!_ s, and was that a pair of underwear thrown onto the stage..? “-but we have ourselves a new challenger! Another violinist, and believe me, ladies, he's smoking hot! Anyway, without further ado, let's see what happens when these two musicians clash! Get on the stage, you two!”

Adrien took a deep breath and took the steps onto the stage two at a time with a spring in his step, inwardly cursing Nino for still not telling him _what the hell he was supposed to be playing_. The lights were burning and the view of the crowd was next to invisible, the lack of lighting over them doing him no favours, but his attention was captured at the sound of heels clicking onto the stage next to him.

He didn't know if Nino had given him his clothing on purpose or whether he organised it for both of them, but she was wearing a pair of very tight-fitting red leather pants with a matching red tank top, a loose black shirt hanging loose over one shoulder. Her hair was let loose for once, a red streak cutting by her cheek, and it took a lot of conscious effort not to let his jaw hang loose as he took her in.

She was staring at him similarly, her eyes very plainly roaming over his narrow waist to his broad shoulders, and if the tightening of her painted red lips were anything to go by she was liking what she was seeing.

The spell was broken as Nino stepped between them, slinging an arm over each of them and grinning wickedly, waving the microphone in front of Adrien's face.

“So, newbie, why don't you introduce yourself?”

He was distantly aware of some screaming from the audience, decidedly feminine, and he couldn't help the smirk that curled at his lips as he responded. This was the freedom, the atmosphere he'd craved. People may admire him as Adrien, but never would anyone scream that they wanted his babies after seeing him walk around in leather pants in any other situation.

It was a boost to his ego that he wasn't aware he wanted.

“Music's the game, Chat Noir's the name, and I'm going to give you a _paw_ formance that you're never going to forget.”

The cheering rose higher and he grinned, flashing a cocky glance to Ladybug who, to her credit, met him with a challenging smirk, a look of burning confidence in her eyes.

“Is that because it's going to be a _hair-raising_ experience?”

Oh, he liked her. He liked her a lot.

Nino laughed, clapping them both on the back, and made his way over to the side of the stage so that he was out of the way of the two musicians. The look on his face gave Adrien cause for concern, but he wasn't going to dwell on that.

“Now, Chat Noir, we have a few rules in this club about new performers.” Wait, what? “You want to play here, you gotta prove yourself. Also, it's not just gotta be any performance, dude – that would be too easy. So, let's ask the crowd – death battle?”

His winced slightly at the deafening cry of agreement that went up from the people gathered, the two words being repeated at a steadily increasing pace like a mantra, volume rising into a fever pitch.

He had no idea what a death battle was, but Ladybug was twirling her bow thoughtfully and shuffling a little on the spot to some beat inside her head, so if she was taking the time to think about it it may well be something to concern himself with.

Nino eventually held his hand up to silence the crowd, turning to the two violinists with a triumphant smirk. “You're familiar with the concept of a riff-off, I assume?”

Adrien nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. This was either going to go amazingly or terribly. He wasn't used to improvising much, especially not while relying on someone else to lead him in.

“Excellent, dude! We'll provide the beat, so you don't need to worry about that. LB here'll be the leader – you gotta match whatever she throws at you. If she thinks you're worthy enough, you're welcomed to the crew.”

When Nino had promised him an occasion to play with Ladybug, he hadn't anticipated being thrown into musical equivalent of mortal combat against her. This was decidedly more stressful than the duets he'd planned and envisioned in his head. And he'd seen her playing – she was practically an improvisation goddess. Give her a beat and she'd whip up melodies and counter-melodies and ear-worms that he'd be humming for the next week at rehearsals at least.

He was fucked. He was so royally fucked, and not in the way he wouldn't mind, either.

“Alright,” Ladybug said, seeming to have snapped out of her little preparation, giving her bow one more experimental twirl before stepping into the middle of the stage, bringing her now plugged in instrument to her shoulder and cocking a hip at him as he attached the cable to his own. Her bluebell gaze was firmly on him, boring into his own, and the edge of her lip quirked in a smile. “Let's see if you're more than just a pretty face, eh?”

The lights dimmed suddenly and they were given only a bar of drumbeat before she started. The bass fell heavily on each beat equally, at a pace that was driving but not rushing. She immediately began with a quaint melody that reminded him of western films, a little fiddle ditty that was neither complicated nor simple, but just enough to get his blood pumping. Her eyes were on his as she completed her third bar, delicately raised eyebrow just visible over her mask and he knew he was expected to carry it on.

He decided not to think on it, matching her finishing note and overlapping them slightly, drawing it out with a light dip to his shoulder that gave strength to the sound, fiddling around the opening she had given him. A mordant here, a run there, and the music seemed to flow through his veins. She was tapping her foot in time with the beat, the motion carrying through her leg and to her hip, and he smirked slightly as he watched her move to pick the melody back up from him.

The two danced around their tune with a carefree enthusiasm, reacting to each other's desire to build the music up, notes and rhythm pushing and pushing, daring the other to see how far they would go.

One of his earliest lessons about music was that it was entirely built on a climax and fall routine. Within phrases the passion and intensity rose, and rose, and when it hit a certain point you had to let it go. To build it too high would overdo it, but that was the trick; you let it drop, but not back to the starting point. Two steps forward, one step back, two steps forward, one step back. Building, building, always building.

They were playing with fire, he knew it, and he was sure that she was feeling the electric thrill down the back of her neck as well. As they relaxed into the beat so too did their bodies, and he felt enraptured as her sinful hips started up their swaying, elegant legs carrying her round the stage like some gazelle, all her movements pulling at her curves and drawing the eye against its will.

He wasn't used to moving while he played at all, for anything beyond facial expressions and upper shoulders were seen as a lack of control and respect to the music in his father's eyes, but here he had no choice but to give in to the ebb and flow of the beat. His own slender frame bent and twisted, hips moving of their own accord to match hers, unaware of the fact his every step brought him closer to her as she twisted to face him.

They were reaching a fever pitch and he knew the melody was about to change, and moments after his sudden epiphany she dropped without warning, crouching low to the ground with one leg stretched out, gaze remaining firmly locked on his as he arm moved in short, syncopated beats in a short riff, providing the base work of what his mind told him needed to be a chord. On instinct he dropped down to meet her, his weight balanced a little differently, and easily wove a tune over the top of her in perfect synchronisation with her rhythm, alternating between fifths and sixths as he complimented her ground work. As the magic built between them they started to straighten, mirroring each other on sheer instinct alone, rising, rising, ignoring the burning in their thighs as they challenged each other not to break formation.

There was a triumphant glint in her eyes as she realised that he had managed to work with her, but he wasn't going to stop there, not after that reaction.

As they reached the third round of their riff, almost half-straightened once more, he called on one of the techniques he had had to master for his classical concerts. The double stop was something that, as its name suggested, they usually used for held notes nearer the end of pieces or to finish phrases. In his experimenting, however, he had discovered that he could, if he was very particular about his notes, manage to play it with a little more speed. It was a delicate process, different pressure needed depending on how taut the string was pulled, but he managed to hit the higher note that raised their driving pattern to new heights and watched the look of surprise on her face as his little finger just barely managed to keep the pitch in tune, his others moving rapidly to continue the middle section.

Two violins making the sound of three, and the outcome was incredible. Using the build up to propel themselves into the final part of their piece the two were quick to fall in sync once more, relying on the tunes they had established at the start in order to build a weaving relationship between melody and counter-melody. Their bodies were nearly touching, back to back to avoid any awkward elbow-to-the-face moments, and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the back of his shirt that was now starting to cling to his form. He could feel a sheen of sweat over his body, no doubt thanks to the heat of the lights coupled with the physical exertion of dancing while playing (while his heart was beating at a manic rate that he was sure wasn't from exercise alone – if it was, he'd be extremely concerned), and together they tilted their arms down, driving at their instruments with harsh downbows that were a mere hair away from screeching but gave their harmonics a rough edge that rounded everything out perfectly, their notes constantly a third apart and providing consistent depth as they supported each other to the end.

A brief and elaborate phrase later and they finished, bows held away from their instruments as the final note rang out through the room. There was silence, the sound of his pulse racing in his head so loud he though he might die, breath running over his lips shakily as he struggled to regain his composure.

A moment later and the crowd went wild, screams so high they hurt his ears, but people were cheering and they loved it, they loved him, they loved _them_.

He turned to his right and saw Ladybug watching him with a flushed face, her hair a mess over her face and her skin shiny from her exertion, but there was a light in her eyes that pulled him in. A smirk tugged at her face and he found himself unable to replicate it, stepping right up to her and looking down at her from his greater height, eyes narrowed slyly. To his surprise she merely closed the distance, the feel of their bodies touching like another jolt to his system, and with her bow secured around her little finger she toyed with the buttons on his shirt, eyes zooming in on his.

It was like the world around them ceased to exist, his stream of consciousness narrowing until it was only her there, as she reached up and tapped the very tip of his nose with a playful smirk.

“Not half bad, Chaton,” she murmured, and he was sure he was going to die yet again as all his blood raced to his cheeks. Ladybug approved of him. She wasn't disappointed by his playing. She was stood flush against him and calling him nicknames.

He half hoped he'd die because he was pretty sure that when he stepped away from her his leather trousers were going to let the world know just how happy he was right then.

“He can stay,” her voice spoke louder, clearer, and he suddenly remembered that Nino was there, that there were people watching, cheering, waiting. “I think he's going to make things.. Interesting.”

She raised her gaze to Adrien's once more and he swallowed dryly, not sure he was really thinking enough to be able to speak right now. His adrenaline had been running on a high for most of that afternoon and evening and that one performance had practically destroyed him, leaving him stood there in a faint buzz of blissful contentment. The girl's smile turned softer, lighter, and she stepped away from him with a light laugh that cut through his haze, reminding himself that he had two feet to stand on and that falling onto his violin would be very counterproductive.

“Come on,” she chuckled, raising her instrument to her shoulder once more, “We have a set to finish.”

“My Lady,” he purred, eyes burning as he moved to match her, reading to follow where she lead and prepared for the onslaught of ecstasy as he fell into his place at her side. “Your wish is my command.”

**Author's Note:**

> If there were any mistakes please let me know, I can't see my hand in front of my face some days I swear.
> 
> Also, please tell me if there's any situations you'd like to see, or if you'd like me to take this further. I have a couple of smaller one shots as sequels that I might possibly write some time, but I'm definitely open to suggestions!
> 
> As usual, if you want to come fangirl with me over the precious children, hit me up on tumblr @kingsandthieves. Thanks for reading! <3


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